Slagfid waded into the herd, looking remarkably similar to a human shepherd pushing his way through a flock of goats. The frost giant stooped over and began grabbing ears. He tipped each beast’s head back so that he could inspect the left tusk, no doubt looking for an ownership mark etched into the ivory. The mammoths trumpeted their protest and occasionally tried to push him away, but the creatures were no match for the giant’s strength. He simply stood his ground and grabbed each animal’s trunk, pinching it shut until the beast stopped struggling.
The frost giant had sorted through about half the herd when the creatures began flapping their ears and changing positions, aligning themselves shoulder-to-shoulder with their heads pointed into the wind. They raised their trunks and let out an intimidating wail, slashing their long tusks through the air and pawing at the ice.
The vibrations caused a large slab of ice to break free, dropping three mammoths and Slagfid into the frigid lake. The plunge didn’t bother any of them. The beasts simply wrapped their trunks around the legs of the closest herd members, then hoisted themselves up with one or two clumsy leaps. No water dripped out of their matted fur, for it had turned to ice the instant the animals had left the lake. Slagfid followed the mammoths’ example, save that he used his hands instead of a prehensile trunk.
The frost giant peered in the same direction as the mammoths. “What’s wrong over there?” he demanded, knocking ice chunks off his body. “Do you see anything?”
Tavis glanced in the direction the giant indicated. “Yes: snow, ice, and shadows.”
The scout did not add that one of the shadows looked to be about the size of a traell. The fellow was lying behind a jagged ridge of ice, with a long bow that could only be Bear Driller on the ground in front of him. Apparently, Avner had recruited some help at the bottom of the glacier. That was why he had been so confident.
Slagfid peered at the shore a moment longer, then shrugged. “Probably bears. Little vermin like that scares mammoths as bad as dragons.” He turned to face the herd again, then shook his head and swore, “By the Endless Ice Sea! Now I’ve got to start over!”
Avner dangled upside down at the end of a greasy rope. A pair of rusty shackles bound his ankles, and in his hands he clutched a blade-tipped spear. The remorhaz danced on the ice almost thirty feet below.
At the top end of Avner’s rope, Hagamil and Halflook were carrying on a bizarre quarrel. The argument would have been comical had the youth’s life not depended on the outcome.
“The body belongs to me until morning!” said Halflook. “If you want to set Little Dragon against the worm, you can wait.”
“By morning, we’ll be on our way.” Hagamil’s gravelly voice rasped from the same mouth out of which Halflook’s had just come. “It’s a long way to Split Mountain.”
“Split Mountain?” snarled Halflook. “We should have left yesterday!”
As the pair argued, Avner slipped his spear between his knees. He took his lockpicking tools out of his belt pouch, then laboriously raised his body up until he could grab his shackle chains. Once the giants dropped him, he would need his mobility-at least if he intended to survive until Tavis returned.
“Hey, what’s Little Dragon doing?” called one of the frost giant spectators. “Is he tryin’ to cheat?”
“Yeah! Ain’t he smart?” answered another. “Just like Slagfid said!”
Hagamil and Halflook glanced briefly at their captive, but made no move to prevent him from unlocking his shackles. Apparently, it was okay to cheat at frost giant games. Under different circumstances, Avner might have enjoyed the company of his captors.
“I would’ve left the day before yesterday,” Hagamil said, continuing the argument. When he spoke, his second eye hung half-descended into the socket. “But we had to wait ’til Slagfid killed Tavis Burdun. So now we’ve gotta do this thing with Little Dragon tonight.”
The first shackle came loose with a pop. Avner twined his arm around the rope, then slipped the pick into the second lock.
“Fine,” Halflook said. “Then I get to watch the match.”
Avner twisted the pick, and the lock popped open. His feet swung free, leaving the shackles in place and him dangling above the remorhaz by a single arm.
“Hey, Little Dragon done it!” called one of the spectators. “He got loose!”
Avner slipped his lockpick back into his belt pouch, then grabbed the spear from between his knees.
Halflook peered down and frowned, then Hagamil’s voice declared, “We’re doing it now!”
The giant-which one, Avner was not quite sure-let the rope slip between his fingers, lowering the youth into the pit like a spider on a thread. The remorhaz reared its chitinous head, ready to strike the instant its prey came into range.
Avner tucked his spear beneath his arm, then began whipping his legs to and fro until he was swinging like a pendulum. The ice worm rocked back and forth in time with the motion. A growing murmur buzzed through the cold chamber as the giants debated the purpose and effectiveness of little Dragon’s maneuver.
When his captor had lowered him to within a spear’s length of the remorhaz, the youth released the rope at the far end of his arc. His momentum catapulted him far past the ice worm’s tail. He hit the ice close to twenty paces away from the beast, then lost his footing and skidded across the floor. He did not stop sliding until he bounced off a wall.
Much to the giants’ delight, the youth instantly leaped to his feet and came up facing the remorhaz. His shackles clanged to the floor on the opposite side of the pit. The ice worm, which had been turning toward the youth, whirled around and scurried toward the noise, hissing and sputtering.
Avner gripped his spear and crept after the beast in silence, hoping to sneak up on the blind spot behind the creature’s head. The youth kept a careful watch on the ice worm’s legs, alert for any movement that suggested it was whirling toward him. Despite their sticklike appearance, the remorhaz’s legs were surprisingly large, with bulbous joints as big around as a human knee.
The ice worm stopped beside the shackles and ran a face tentacle over the cold steel. Avner was puzzled to see little wisps of vapor rising from the ice beneath the metal. He did not understand what was causing the steam, but it seemed clear enough that he would be wise to avoid the tentacles.
After a time, the remorhaz tossed the irons aside with a contemptuous flick of its head, apparently satisfied that the lifeless steel would cause it no harm. The beast carefully turned around, searching for its prey.
Avner slipped to the side, taking care to stay in the worm’s blind spot, and deftly glided toward the shackles. The maneuver elicited a round of thunderous chuckles from the giants above.
When the ice worm did not find its quarry in the expected place, it vented a gurgling roar and spun around in a whirling blue flash. Avner thrust the tip of his spear into the floor and pushed off, launching himself toward the shackles in a crazy, slip-sliding sprint. The remorhaz hissed in glee and came scratching after him, its many claws gouging long furrows in the ice.
Avner snatched the irons on the move. Allowing himself to glide across the bumpy floor for a moment, he turned and hurled his spear at the remorhaz. The ice worm ducked, though it hardly needed to, and the shaft sailed harmlessly past its head. The youth resumed his sprint, his fingers tearing madly at the rope attached to the heavy chain. He managed to undo the knot quickly, for it had been tied by giant fingers and was quite loose. Behind him he heard the remorhaz’s claws warily clattering on the ice.
“Hey, what are you afraid of!” Avner called. He reached the wall and stopped, then turned around to see the ice worm slowly stalking toward him. He beat the shackles against the ice, yelling, “Come and get me. Hear that dinner bell?”
The remorhaz charged. Avner waited until the worm was moving so fast that it could not possibly stop, then pushed off the wall and ran straight toward the beast. The remorhaz raised its head to strike. The youth dropped to his hip and hit the ice sliding, whirling the shackles like a morningstar. He passed beneath the beast’s belly before it could attack, whipping the irons into the creature’s legs. He heard the satisfying crunch of crackling chitin and felt two limbs fracture.
The remorhaz roared and sprang sideways, trying to leap away from its tormentor. Avner grabbed one of its bulbous knees and held tight, and when the beast landed, the youth was still beneath it. He slipped one of the open shackles around the worm’s leg, closing the cuff above the creature’s round ankle.
The remorhaz thrust its head under its belly, jaws snapping and face tendrils flaying. The youth managed to whirl away from the beast’s needle-toothed maw, but its tentacles thrashed him several times. Scorching pains shot through his face and arms, and red welts rose wherever the tendrils touched. Avner continued to roll, jerking the
